Noiseless Hill
by Davy
Summary: A Parody to Silent Hill. PG-13 for language and gore. I started writing this five years ago, so later chapters might be different in style from the earlier ones.
1. Prologue

**Noiseless Hill**  
_A Parody to Konami's Silent Hill Series  
By Davy De Vuysdere _  
  
**Prologue**

_DISCLAIMER: I do not own Silent Hill. Silent Hill is property of Konami. Also, this is a parody, and the names are slightly altered, so basically you can't sue me. Ha ha ha. Anyway, don't sue me, please, I'm insane. Also, this one is dedicated to Mikoto. ;)_

  
Garry Mayonaise yawned. He had been driving for hours, and his behind was sweaty and numb. He looked at his daughter Cherry, who sat beside him. She was fast asleep, and snoring rather loudly. Every now and again a drop of transparent drool dripped onto her clothes. Garry grunted, and tried to think of ways to get rid of her. Maybe he could try throwing her out of the moving car?  
  
He had killed his wife a few years ago, as an act of sympathy. She was suffering from SARS, regardless of the fact that the first cases of SARS only appeared three years later. If he had known how much trouble it would be to raise a daughter as a single parent, he would have reconsidered smothering his screaming wife with a pillow. Now he realized he would have been better off setting the house ablaze while they were both in it, but it was, of course, too late.  
  
They were on their way to Noiseless Hill now, a quiet resort town in Wisconsin. It was a very quiet town indeed, except for the occasional slaughtering of little children, and the Satanic cults roaming around. A good place to bring your daughter if, say, you'd ever want to get rid of her.  
  
"Daddy?"  
  
He turned his head and saw Cherry looking up at him with her big, brown, dog-like eyes. He slapped her. "Don't talk to the driver, honey," he muttered. "Go back to sleep, or hold your breath, or something." God, he wished he had a pillow right now. After a few collisions between Garry's hand and Cherry's head, she finally decided to go back to sleep.  
  
A loud humming noise distracted Garry from his dreams about a childless life. He looked out the window and saw a female police officer, wearing tight leather pants, riding a motorcycle. She looked at him from behind her dark sunglasses.  
  
He winked.  
  
She blew him a kiss.  
  
He made a rather vulgar gesture, implying a request for oral sex.  
  
The female officer licked her lips. That was probably why she didn't see the huge oil stain on the road. She started swerving, and crashed her motorcycle on the side of the road.   
  
"Tch. Women," grunted Garry. Of course he knew the appropriate thing to do would be to pull over his car and help her, but only a complete idiot would go help a police officer if his driver's license had expired long ago. Then again, only a complete idiot would drive such a long distance with an expired driver's license.  
  
Because he was having this inner battle about morality, he didn't notice the strange girl that was standing in the middle of the road in front of him. When he noticed her, it was already too late to brake. Normally he would have ran over her, but what he saw shocked him so much that he turned the wheel in panic. As he drove his car off the road, down the hill and into darkness, he knew that the memory of her burned skin and pink bikini would stay forever in his mind.

* * *

  
He woke up with a major headache. With every ounce of strength in his body, he opened his right eye and took a peek at Cherry's seat. It was empty.  
  
Immediately he jerked up his head and opened both his eyes. The windshield was still intact. There were no traces of blood. Dammit. He knew he shouldn't have allowed her to fasten that seatbelt. He tried to start the engine. No response. Fuck, now he'd have to walk home.  
  
He got out of the car and was immediately engulfed in a thick fog. "Must've hit a smoke machine store or something," he muttered, as he limped away from the car wreck. A few minutes later he noticed his leg wasn't hurt. He seized the limping. As he walked through the deserted town, he made the bright observation that the town seemed deserted. Also, the fog was still there.  
  
_Fog?_ thought Garry. _In November? Get real!_ He had always had some trouble keeping the four seasons, and the weather that came with them, apart. Then, through the fog, he could see the silhouette of a girl. She was putting one foot in front of the other, and slightly lifting up her skirt. "Rrr," uttered Garry. "Kinky."  
  
"Daddy?" the girl said, turning her head at the sound of his voice.  
  
"Oh shit!" screamed Garry, as he made a quick funky 90-degree turn and ran off into the mist. 

* * *

After a few miles of running away from his daughter, Garry noticed he was lost. He did however not notice the sign that read "Beware of the dog", mainly because he was illiterate. A high-pitched bark reached his ears, and when he turned around, he saw a rabid poodle, wild with fury, attacking him. He quickly countered the threat by kicking the vicious quadruped against the wall, where it was knocked unconscious.  
  
Garry then saw a trail of blood leading in an alleyway, and, always curious to see the suffering and – hopefully painful – death of his fellow man, he decided to follow it. After a while, there was the sound of a car alarm. As the sound of the beeps increased in volume, the world got darker, until Garry finally screamed "Puh-LEASE, shut off your alarm!"  
  
Two shorter beeps followed, and then complete silence, although the light did not return. Even though Garry had been afraid of the dark since he was 2 years old, our brave protagonist continued his perilous journey after a fart or two and some inner pep talk. He lit a match, and soon he came across a broken wheelchair, one of the wheels still squeakily turning. This is when it dawned on him.  
  
"Wait a minute… _now wait just one friggin' minute!_" he screamed, as he turned around. "You think you can make a fool out of me? I can see what's going on here! This town has been taken over! It's a _conspiracy_! And let me tell you something else, _I'm on to you! I know who's behind this!_ I… Ow!" He dropped his match, and shook his finger around, because it seemed to be on fire.  
  
He lit another match, and continued following the alley. Pretty soon he reached a dead end, and also found the origin of the blood trail. There was a skinless corpse hanging from the wall, in some kind of horrible mockery of the Crucifixion. The ears and nose were cut off, and the eyes were taken out, and replaced with Christmas lights, which were flickering merrily. What was worse, the corpse seemed to be still alive, although Garry didn't notice that.  
  
"Who _does_ your hair?" asked Garry, referring to the plucks of black fluff on the head of the thing that apparently used to be a man.  
  
"Mmmmrrrrmmmmfff… help meeee…" spoke the mutulated Christmas tree.  
  
Garry screamed in a very girly manner, turned around, ran into a wall and knocked himself out. As his mind plummeted into darkness, he realized he had wet himself.  
  


_So? What do you think? If you'd like to know who's REALLY behind the Noiseless Hill conspiracy according to Garry, or if you just want to know how it goes on, just drop me a review. No reviews, no more chapters. :p_  



	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter One**

_DISCLAIMER: Silent Hill is property of Konami, and the guests in this chapter are property of J.R.R. Tolkien. I don't own anything!  
_

Garry woke with a shock, fell off the couch he had been lying on and unwillingly banged his head against the side of a table. The noise caught the attention of the female police officer, who had dozed off. She too woke up, screamed "DADDY NO DON'T TOUCH ME THERE!" and shot Garry in the foot.  
  
Garry's head – that had been quite numb from the encounter with the table – was now immediately cleared by the loss of one of his toes. Garry squealed like a pig that's being castrated and grabbed his foot. The police officer was screaming too.  
  
"Oh my god, I'm so sorry, what have I done, sorry sorry sorry," she rattled. Then she threw up, but Garry didn't notice that. He had passed out again.  
  


* * *

Garry woke up for the second time. His left foot hurt like hell. He turned his head, and saw one of his toes lying on the table, wrapped neatly in a napkin. He sat up and stared at the police officer, too shocked to even squeak.  
  
She fidgeted nervously on her chair. "Sorry," she apologized apologetically.  
  
"No problem," Garry groaned, clenching his fists. He looked around and noticed he was in a café of sorts. It would have been a nice place, if the walls hadn't been covered with obscene messages. ("Alfred loves Steve", "Twelve-year-old girl will give head for a beer, ask for Heather" and "Gay bear likes to play it rough, minors only – call Frank, 555 67 85")  
  
"How do you feel?" the police officer asked, uneasily.  
  
"Ugh. Like I've been run over by a truck with a crazed old demented foreign driver, filled with turkeys, and like the turkeys were then released and ran all over me…" – he coughed and some feathers fluttered out of his mouth – "… and like I then fell off a couch, hit my head and _got shot in the foot._" He shot a vicious glare at the officer.  
  
"Erm… my name is Sybill," she said, blushing. "Sybill Benetti."  
  
"Garry Mayonaise," said Garry as he picked up his toe and casually dropped it in one of his pockets. He looked at the blonde officer, and noticed that her arms were covered with scratches. She also had a nasty looking cut on her forehead. "What happened to you?"  
  
"Huh? Oh, this?" she asked, holding up her arms. "It's nothing, really. I'm a police officer from Brooms, the next town over. I crashed my motorcycle on the way over here. Some redneck was distracting me, making obscene gestures at me and all that…"  
  
Garry felt his face go red, and quickly tried to change the subject. "So what brings you here?"  
  
Sybill suddenly got a stern look on her face. "That's official police business," she said importantly.  
  
"Oh come on," Garry pouted. "You shot me! You could at least tell me why."  
  
Her face turned pale. When she spoke, it was barely more then a whisper. "Something's… wrong with this town! We've been getting reports of drug trafficking, cows being abducted by aliens, people spontaneously combusting, turkeys running rampant in the streets, and fish disappearing. So that's why I'm here." She looked quite proud for being sent to this town because of things that were probably nothing but hoaxes. She continued, staring blankly at the wall. "Yes… the things that I've seen since I got here… yes sir, terrible things…" She shivered.  
  
Garry was not impressed. "_I've_ seen a corpse," he said proudly.  
  
Sybill sniffed. "Yeah? Well, _I_ crashed my motorcycle and saw a burned girl in a pink bikini talk to a pack of wild turkeys."  
  
Garry laughed. "Hah! I saw that girl, crashed my car, saw a corpse and then got attacked by those turkeys," he snorted, hoping she'd believe him about the turkeys.  
  
Sybill was starting to get upset. "I was abused by my father, brother, mother, aunt, the milkman, the dentist and the neighbour's cat, and _then_ I crashed my motorcycle and saw a burned girl in a pink bikini talk to a pack of wild turkeys. _And my puppy died!_" she screamed.  
  
Garry hissed. "_You SHOT me!_"  
  
"_Oh let it go, you whiner!_" Sybill barked. She panted, and then seemed to calm down a bit. "What are you doing in this town anyway?"  
  
"I'm here on holiday with my d… with my… my…" Garry stuttered.  
  
"Your what?" Sybill asked curiously.  
  
"My goldfish," Garry decided. "Unfortunately she didn't survive the crash."  
  
"Oh," Sybill said, looking down. "I'm… I'm sorry to hear that."  
  
"Yeah," Garry said sadly. "She was… she was great, you know? And cheerful to the very end. I just… I just hope she didn't feel much pain."  
  
"She's in a better place now," Sybill said comfortingly.  
  
They held a minute of silence, to honour the dead goldfish Garry had just made up. He could hear Sybill sobbing softly. Garry put his hands in his pockets and played with his toe. Maybe he could sell it on the black market once he got out of here.  
  
Sybill suddenly looked at him. "Hey," she said. "Have you seen a little girl around here? Short, black hair, about seven years old?"  
  
_Oh shit_. "N-no, I can't say that I have," Garry muttered, moving uneasily on his chair.  
  
"I saw her running around in town. I wanted to tell her it's dangerous here, but she ran away." She looked puzzled. "I don't get it, I'm usually good with kids." Then, she apparently had a bright idea. "Hey, I've got it! Why don't you go look for her?"  
  
"WHAT? Why? You're the cop! You go look for her," Garry protested.  
  
"I've got important official police business to attend to," said Sybill.  
  
"But…" Garry stammered. "I don't _want_ to!"  
  
Sybill pulled out her gun. "Don't make me shoot your other foot," she threatened.  
  
"You can't do this," Garry sulked. "That's against the law!"  
  
"IN THIS TOWN, I AM THE LAW!" Sybill roared, spitting out foam. "Now quit your whining, boy, and get a move-on."  
  
Garry got up, trembling. A flash of pain went up through his leg when his left foot hit the ground. "Okay," said Sybill. "I'll head for the police station."  
  
"I'll head for the nearest way out of this town," proposed Garry.  
  
"And we'll head East, for the Dark Land of Mordor, to destroy the One Ring," said Frodo.  
  
"Who or what the hell are you, you short, hairy-feet… thingies?" Sybill informed.  
  
"Why, we're Hobbits," replied Sam.  
  
"They still got all of their toes," Garry sobbed, staring jealously at the Hobbits' hairy feet.  
  
"Come on, Mister Frodo," Sam said cheerfully. "Onward to our Doom."  
  
"And what a gay trip it will be," Frodo said with a wink. "What have we got left to eat, Sam?"  
  
"Sausages, Mister Frodo," Sam said, returning the wink. The Hobbits both started giggling and headed for the door. "I love you, Mister Frodo," said Sam.  
  
"Sam, we've talked about this! Not in public," said Frodo as they skipped into the mist outside, holding hands.  
  
Sybill and Garry just stared. Garry was the first to speak again, after about five minutes. "Where the fuck did they just come from?" he asked, baffled.  
  
"I… I don't know," Sybill answered. "Anyway, you definitely have to go find that girl. It's not safe for her out there with all those weirdo's around." She motioned at the door through which Frodo and Sam had left.  
  
"It's not safe for me either with all those weirdo's around," Garry countered.  
  
Sybill sighed. "Have you got a gun?"  
  
"Umm. No," Garry said, somewhat embarrassed. "I couldn't get a license. Psychologically unstable, or something." He started muttering. "But I made him pay. Oh, how I made him pay…" He chuckled to himself, his eyes shining with an eerie glow.  
  
Sybill held a gun out to him. "Here," she said. "And hope you don't have to use it. And don't go blasting me when I'm possessed by some kind of parasite demon on my shoulder when you can heal me with the red stuff you can find in the hospital."  
  
"What?" Garry said, slightly confused. "Just give me the friggin' gun." He snatched it from her and started dancing around, forgetting all about the pain in his foot.  
  
Sybill headed for the exit, but before she reached it there was a shot. She felt a bullet swish through the air, barely touching her ear. The glass door in front of her shattered. She turned around, only to see Garry smiling apologetically and trying to hide a smoking gun behind his back.  
  
"It just went off," he claimed. "I swear, I wasn't aiming at your head!"  
  
She grunted and left the café.  
  


* * *

As soon as she had left, Garry started investigating – read: looting – the area. Unfortunately for him, there weren't too much valuables around; he ended up with a map of Noiseless Hill, some silverware, a cleaver and some morphine that was hidden underneath the counter.  
  
He was about to leave the café when suddenly a small pocket radio that was lying lonely on one of the tables started emitting static. Then the static changed to a Phil Collins song.  
  
"Huh," Garry uttered. "I mean, HUH? Like, WOW! Really, RADIO, WOW!!! I mean, like, RADIO, WHAT THE FUCK IS WITH THAT RADIO?" He covered his ears and started screaming in horror.  
  
Suddenly, through one of the broken windows, came the vilest winged beast he had ever seen. A raging turkey. He ran, and immediately the crazed monster pursued. The turkey chased Garry for about five minutes, and then cornered him. Garry suddenly remembered the cleaver, and in an act of bravery combined with dumb luck he managed to chop off the turkey's head. After that the turkey chased him for another two minutes, and then finally dropped dead.  
  
Garry panted. "This… this is not a dream! WHAT'S HAPPENING TO THIS PLACE?" he screamed. He suddenly remembered Sybill's words about the fish disappearing. "I knew it!" he shrieked. "You think you can scare me? HUH? WELL, YOU'RE WRONG, YOU DAMN… _EELS!_" He calmed down a bit.  
  
He headed for the exit, but before he could leave the radio started emitting static again. "Hmm," Garry said to himself – and please note that talking to yourself is one of the first signs of insanity. "Maybe I should take it with me…" The radio then started playing a Britney Spears song. Garry shot at it and went outside.  
  


* * *

As he strolled down the deserted streets of Noiseless Hill, he noticed his wallet was missing. He figured he probably lost it in that alley where he got knocked out, so he set out on a quest to retrieve his wallet. It was a perilous journey, and he slew many a poodle and turkey before he finally reached his destination.  
  
Although the alley was blocked off, his wallet was there on the ground. As he picked it up, he noticed there was a little note under it. He could recognize Cherry's handwriting as he read the note:  
  


_"Meet me @ da skool - xxx"_

  
  
He grunted. "Like Hell I will," he muttered, and went on his way, looking for ways out of this town.  


_Okay kiddies, you know the drill. More reviews, more chapters. :p_  



	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

_DISCLAIMER: Silent Hill is still property of Konami (I think?) and the guests in this chapter are property of Chris Carter._

The sun slowly went under, colouring the skies orange and purple. After this brief period of twilight, darkness set in. "Huh?" Garry uttered. "Why's it going dark all of a sudden?"  
  
He had been strolling around the town for hours, looking for a way out. It seemed, however, that every possible escape route had been carefully blocked with barricades of pink teddy bears and bananas – things that Garry had dreaded and feared since his early childhood. The only roads that weren't blocked by these abominations led – naturally – to the Noiseless Hill Elementary School for the Mentally Retarded.  
  
Garry sighed. _This is so unfair!_ he thought. _What have I done to deserve this madness?_ (He had apparently momentarily forgotten about the whole deal of smothering his wife and trying to kill his daughter at every occasion that came at hand, not to mention the amount of poodles and turkeys he had killed since he had arrived in Noiseless Hill.) He sighed again, grabbed the crowbar he had picked up somewhere before and smashed some windows.  
  
"_Freeze, Federal Agent!_" shouted a voice from behind Garry. "Drop the crowbar!"  
  
Garry forced himself to calm down. He dropped the crowbar and slowly turned around, a dull, burning pain shooting through his foot. "Identify yourself!" shouted the federal agent, while menacingly waving a cucumber at Garry.  
  
"My name is Garry Mayonaise! Please don't shoo… what is that thing?" said Garry, lowering his arms upon noticing the cucumber.  
  
"Shit," the FBI-agent sighed. "It's a cucumber. I left my gun at home. I didn't think you'd notice, what with the dark and the fog and the dark fog." He dropped the lethal vegetable. "What exactly are you doing there, sir?"  
  
"Gahhh, I was, umm… inspecting the glass for termites!" Garry stuttered.  
  
The federal agent stared at him. "That has to be the dumbest, most ridiculous thing I've ever heard." He reached in his pocket and pulled out a wallet. "Special Agent Fox Mulder."  
  
Garry had a laughing fit. "Fox?" he giggled. "Hehe… what… kind of name is… hahaha… Fox? Do you have any brothers called Gopher or Weasel or something?"  
  
Mulder's eye twitched. Before he got the chance to come up with a witty reply, he was interrupted by a woman who came from around the corner. "Mulder, every liquor store, bar and brothel in this shithole is closed, so I'm starting to think everyone's dead." She noticed Garry. "Oh good, you found a survivor."  
  
"This is Mr Mayonaise," Mulder said dryly. "He was wrecking windows when I found him. He was about to tell me what he's doing here, weren't you, Mr Mayonaise?"  
  
"_I didn't kill her!_" Garry yelled. "_Please don't take me to jail, I'm too whiny to be sodomized!_" He burst out in tears.  
  
"We… didn't say anything about killing," said the woman.  
  
"Or sodomizing," Mulder added.  
  
"Oh," Garry sniffled.  
  
"Have you seen any weird lights in the sky since you got here?" Mulder asked with a sort of passionate glee in his eyes, causing the woman to sigh. "Not again," she muttered.  
  
"_I'm not a drug trafficker!_" Garry shrieked, trying to get rid of the morphine he found in the café. Maybe he could set it on fire without the federal agents noticing it. He suddenly remembered his toe. They'd get suspicious about it! "_I'm not an organ trafficker either!_"  
  
"Organs?" the woman asked. "How can you smuggle organs? Aren't they like, huge, with all the pipes and the wood?"  
  
"Jesus, Scully!" Mulder yelled. "You should really stay off those pills!"  
  
"But I need them," she sulked. "I need them or I start seeing things, like cigarette smoking men, UFO's and aliens in pink tutus."  
  
"… _You_ have a troubled mind," Mulder sighed. He turned to Garry. "Have you seen any cigarette smoking men, UFO's or aliens in tutus, pink or not?"  
  
"Not that I can recall," said Garry carefully, while trying to reach for the gun in his pocket without seeming suspicious. They'd never capture him alive!  
  
"Alright then, I guess we're done here," said Mulder cheerfully, apparently much to the surprise of Scully. Garry relaxed a bit.  
  
"Mulder, what's going on?" Scully asked. "We were sent here because of reports of mutilated cattle, disappearing fish and blinking lights in the sky who have so far killed one epileptic already, and now you want to go home? I thought _I_ was the sceptic here."  
  
"Dammit woman!" Garry shrieked. "If the man wants to go home, then let him! There are no little girls here!"  
  
Mulder and Scully both stared at him. "Little girls?" Scully informed.  
  
"I meant UFO's," said Garry, a spasm striking his face.  
  
"Oh," Mulder said. "Okay then. Let's go, Scully."  
  
"But Mulder," she started. "I really think we should…" She was interrupted by a sudden rumbling sound. As the sound grew louder, the ground started to shake. A bright, supernatural light lit the dim streets of Noiseless Hill as an enormous fleet of spaceships slowly floated through the night skies. Awestruck, the three watched the Extraterrestrial Armada hovering above their heads; a rain of dead chickens and mutilated cattle came over them. Cars were crushed by legless cows wearing orange bras, windows smashed by anally probed chickens. In the midst of all this chaos stood special agent Fox Mulder, with a determined look on his face.  
  
"I'm not gonna say this again, Scully," he said. "Let's go. There's nothing to see here." He then proceeded to walk towards their car.  
  
"_Mulder!_" Scully shrieked, visibly traumatised by the madness she had just witnessed. "How can you call this _nothing_? How can you possibly explain this?"  
  
Mulder sighed. "A weather balloon collided with an experimental government aircraft, which caused a giant explosion induced by swamp gas. That explains the lights and the mutilated cattle."  
  
"This is everything you've ever wanted! How can you walk away from this? Why?" Scully asked, incredulous.  
  
"Because," said Mulder, as he opened the car door. "_Evolution_ is on in twenty minutes. If we leave now, we can still get back to the motel in time to see it." He looked surprised by seeing Scully's blank stare. "What?" he said. "It's got David Duchovny in it!"  
  
Scully sighed and walked towards the car. "For God's sake, Mulder, what is it with you and David Duchovny…" she muttered.  
  
"Umm. Excuse me?" said Garry. "Do you think you could, like, give me a ride to the next town over, or something?"  
  
Scully shot a vicious glare at Mulder. "That maniac is _not_ getting in my car."  
  
"My sentiments exactly," Mulder agreed.  
  
"But," Garry whined. "You're gonna just _leave_ me here? With all these _monsters_ around?"  
  
"Um. Yeah," said Mulder. "Here's some spare change, though." He threw a few coins at Garry. "Let's get some food," he said to Scully, while he stepped inside the car. As they drove away, Garry could still hear his last words.  
  
"Burger King or Kentucky Fried Chicken?"  
  


* * *

Garry sighed. He felt utterly alone, and utterly miserable. Once again, he asked himself where he had deserved this torment. Maybe it was because he liked to smash little birds with bricks when he was just a little boy? No, it couldn't be. If anything, it would've been those dogs he had poisoned when he was eleven.  
  
He ran into a lamppost and knocked himself out. His mind was absorbed by darkness again, and he dreamed. He dreamed about FBI-agents dressed up as cucumbers, getting abducted by aliens looking like kiwis. He dreamed about his daughter, dancing around with poodles, turkeys and pink teddy bears. He dreamed about his dead wife; her rotten teeth, her white-yellowish skin, decorated with red spots, giving her a lovely unhealthy glow. He dreamed about how it would be if she would still be alive. It was more than he could bear, and he woke up.  
  
"Meh," Garry sighed. "What a nightmare." He was startled by a sudden sound. Peering into the dark, he suddenly noticed a shape moving towards him through the thick fog. He screamed in utter terror at the sight of the giant pink teddy bear stumbling towards him.  
  
"Hug me," the beast gurgled.  
  
"N-no," Garry stuttered, taking a few steps backwards. "Get away!"  
  
"Hug me!" the teddy bear growled, reaching for Garry with his fluffy arms.  
  
Garry screamed, turned around and started running.  
  
"But I wuv you," the cuddly monster pleaded, clumsily pursuing Garry.  
  
After thirty minutes of chaotic running, Garry finally managed to lose the teddy bear. He stood in the middle of a deserted road, panting and sweating. He realised he missed his toe, very badly. _I always took it for granted_, he thought, _and now it's gone_.  
  
His confused thoughts abruptly came to an end when he was hit by a bus. He was knocked off his feet and flew through the air. While the bus swerved and stopped, Garry was smacked against a tree with a nauseating cracking sound and fell on the ground like a rag doll.  
  


* * *

Garry woke up with a splitting headache. He tried to sit up, only to notice that if he did, brain fluid started to seep out of his nose and ears. He thought this was a rather unpleasant experience, and decided to stay down for another while after all.  
  
"Are yoo alright?" asked a somewhat effeminate voice with a heavy German accent.  
  
Garry groaned and muttered – although he meant to say: "I'm fine, thanks." – and noticed he was inside the bus that had hit him. When he finally managed to lift his head for longer than three seconds, he noticed he was surrounded by four blonde men, wearing bright-coloured tank tops and tight pants. Garry squeaked.  
  
"Ve are a boyzband from Berlin," said Blonde #1. "Und zis is our Party Bus."  
  
"I see," Garry whispered shyly, coughing up some blood and tissue.  
  
"Oh, oh," said Blonde #4, frantically jumping up and down. "Maybe ve could sing a song for yoo zo make yoo feel better, ja? Ve are trying zo rock America just like ve rocked Germany!"  
  
"Bist du aber ganz verrückt, Egon!" shrieked Blonde #2, manically waving with his arms. "My voice is so not in shape right now! Was thinkst du, Adi?"  
  
"It looks zo me like ein good idea, actually, Ernst." said Blonde #1, also referred to as Adi. Blonde #2 sulked. "Yoo can do it without me zen!" he whined, as he walked to the front of the bus.  
  
"Don't mind Ernst," said Blonde #3. "He's still upset because we found out about his relationship with the bus driver."  
  
Garry didn't want to imagine what the bus driver had been doing when the bus had hit him.  
  
"So, shall we sing a song for you ja?" asked Egon (Blonde #4).  
  
"Uh, really, don't trouble yourself," Garry muttered politely, already suppressing the violent urge to vomit all over the bus.  
  
"Eet ees no trouble _at all_," Blonde #3 shrieked excitedly. Garry yelped softly in protest.  
  
The three remaining members of the German boys band then proceeded to sing a song that could be accurately described as the screeching of tormented kittens. For forty minutes, Garry endured this, and then he burst out in tears.  
  
"Stop," he sobbed. "I can't take it anymore! You're horrible! _Horrible!_"  
  
The trio stared at him. "Oh, be nice!" said Egon, effeminately slapping Garry. Garry kicked him in the stomach, a wave of new pain emerging from his foot. Garry's nose started bleeding spontaneously, causing him to wonder if he might have brain damage. Perhaps he should go see a doctor after all.  
  
Blonde #2 burst out in tears. "Now look vat yoo deed, yoo made Uwe cry!" Adi shrieked. "_Yoo are a bad man! Ve vill kick you off zee Party Bus!_"  
  
"Just you try!" Garry growled menacingly, before he got dizzy and passed out again.  
  


* * *

When he woke up, he noticed he was lying on a cold, wet, stone pavement. Rain was pouring down on him from the ink black skies. Garry lifted his head and noticed there was a building up ahead.  
  
"Fucking rain," he groaned. "Gotta get inside." He slowly crawled towards the building. If he hadn't been so tired, he would have noticed the large neon sign reading "Noiseless Hill Elementary School for the Mentally Retarded – Casino".  
  
By the time he reached the school, Garry had finally regained enough strength to stand on both feet. He shut the door behind him and looked around the empty, dim-lit hall. He was too exhausted to notice the click of the lock behind him.  
  
He let out a relieved sigh. "Things can only get better fro…" He stopped dead in the middle of his sentence. There was a message written in pink lipstick on the opposite wall, in the unmistakable handwriting of his daughter.

_"Daddy, u dere? U h8 me, dont u"_

Garry uttered a scream that would wake the dead, and helped himself to a morphine shot.

_First of all I'd like to apologize. Writing this chapter took me so long. Really. It's insane. I mean, I've been writing for over a month, and I don't even think it's good.  
Anyway, if there are still any fans of me out there who like this story and who want to see it continued, please review. These reviews keep me going!_  



	4. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

_I'm so very sorry I didn't update in months. Really. Inspiration seems to have left me for quite a while, and I've been busy with all kinds of things unrelated to writing. I'm having my finals now, and instead of convincing myself to start studying for the math exam, I've decided to try and write yet another great chapter for this epic tale. _

_Another disclaimer: Don't own Silent Hill, yadda yadda, you should know this stuff by heart by now._

Garry opened his eyes to the sound of birds singing. In just a fraction of a second he was right awake and sitting up. Shreds of memories flashed through his troubled mind – memories of the horrors in Noiseless Hill.  
  
Confused, Garry investigated his surroundings. Much to his surprise, he noticed he was in his bedroom. The early sun-rays crept in through the half-closed shutter, there was nothing to be heard – not even the snores of Cherry – except for the birds, singing their promise that it would be a beautiful day. Garry lifted the sheets, a strange feeling overtaking him, and counted his toes. Ten. He had ten toes.  
  
Had it all been a dream? Garry got out of bed, and realised the strange feeling was _happiness_.

* * *

As he skipped through the house, passing by the empty room that had once belonged to his daughter, the happiness grow to ecstasy. He started laughing on top of his lungs, doing a little dance while he made coffee.   
  
The weird dream about Noiseless Hill was now forgotten – he was Garry Mayonaise, aka Mayonaise-man, multi-millionaire and masked vigilante. He had gained superpowers at the tender age of ten, in a freaky accident involving clowns and turkeys. He had led a normal life, had a normal marriage with a normal daughter, and then it had all come to an end.  
  
The Infamous Diaper Gang, murderous toddlers that roamed the streets of Funk City, where Garry and his family lived at the time, had ambushed the Mayonaises. They had demanded for Cherry to sing "Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star" to them, but she had refused and offered them oral sex instead. The kindergartners did not take this well and launched a direct attack against the Mayonaises.   
  
Garry fought brave to protect his beloved wife and daughter, but as he was occupied kicking the kids around, a UFO flew by and dropped a cow on his wife and daughter, killing them on the spot. From that day onward, Garry swore to use his superpowers only to fight evil – for a small compensation, which had eventually brought him to his millionaire-status.  
  
Yes – he was Garry Mayonaise, and he was making coffee.  
  
The phone rang. With his psychokinetic powers, Garry made it float towards him to answer it. He took a sip of coffee while answering it, for the ability to use his nostrils to talk was one of his special powers.  
  
"Mayonaiseman, how may I help you?" he snorted. "Yes… Uhhuh…I'll be there in three minutes, Mr President."  
  
He hung up and finished drinking his coffee. He got dressed in his pink spandex costume and flew out the window, heading for Washington DC. After 47 seconds of flying, he crashed through the window of the Oval Office, landing on a chair in front of the President's desk.  
  
The President of the United States of America was colouring a picture of a dog – badly. Little sweat drops were visible on his forehead as he was trying desperately to stay within the lines. Garry coughed, causing the President to bite off the tip of his tongue.  
  
"Ow," he whined. "Now where in th'name of Gawd did yew come frum?"  
  
Garry pointed. "The window. How can I help you, Mr President Man? Mr Commander-in-Chief? George? Can I call you George?"   
  
"No, yew cannot," the President responded with a sulky tone in his voice.  
  
"How 'bout Ron?" Garry asked, trying to keep the social talk with the most powerful man in the world going.  
  
"That's not even mah name!" the President shouted. He had a sudden fit, then calmed down. "How's the family, Mayonaise?"  
  
"Still rotting, Bob," Garry replied.  
  
"Ah'll have you executed if yew keep doin' that, Mayonaise," the President huffed. "And don't yew go thinkin' Ah won't, 'cause Ah've dunnit before."  
  
"Fine, Mr President," Garry whined, twitching uneasily. "What seems to be your trouble today?"  
  
"Ah have gas," the President responded with a blush.  
  
"… I mean, the reason you made me come here," Garry said, suppressing a giggle.  
  
"Oh. Ah need yew to take out sum terr'rists."  
  
"Gah, again?" Garry sighed. "How many of those guys are left between me killing them and them blowing themselves up?"  
  
"Ah dunno an' Ah dun' care, Ah'm the President of the United States of America. It's mah job t'find scapegoats to distract the American people from how me 'n mah Administration screw up," the President babbled.  
  
"True," Garry agreed.  
  
"Now lis'n up, mah friend Tony, the Prime Minister of that other country, what's its name again… yew know, it's small and it's like a mini-version of the States…" – the President tried desperately to think of the name of England – "… Ah think it was sumthing like Ingulland or sumthing, well nevermind, really…"  
  
"Is there a point, and if so, when are you getting there?" Garry asked, staring out of the window and bored out of his mind.  
  
"_The point is_," the President screeched. "_That those bastards took MAH TEDDY BEAR!_"  
  
Garry twitched again. A teddy bear. He had a mortal fear of teddy bears.  
  
The President let out a soft cough. "Now, they're hidin' somewhere in a cave or a desert in _whateverstan_, so go find them an' get me mah bear back."  
  
"Erm," Garry started. "What's this based on? What evidence do you have that they have your bear?"  
  
"Evidence _shrevidence_!" the President shouted. "Think Ah had evidence when we invaded Iraq? Ah mean, can yew watch me on tv and say honestly that Ah look like Ah have any fuckin' clue what Ah'm talkin' about? Yew just go get mah bear ba…"  
  
There was a tapping on the door and the Vice-President stepped in. "Sir? Time for your nap."  
  
"Dick," the President snarled. "Ah'm in the middle of a meeting."  
  
"Sir, you really need your rest, or you might fall off your mountain bike again," the Vice-President countered.  
  
"Ah fine," the President muttered. "Excuse me." He got up and walked past Garry. "Yew go find mah bear now, Mr Mayonaise."  
  
"Yeah sure," Garry said, crashing another window on his way out. "Prick."

* * *

Garry had a fun-filled day, doing the things he enjoyed most in life – killing people, innocents and terrorists alike. At lunch-time, he flew back to the United States to eat at his favourite Burger King's. After lunch, he had a short nap before flying back to the Middle-East, where he killed some more random people. A couple of minutes past three his mobile phone went off.  
  
"Mayonaise," he said, decapitating a random guy with his laser vision.  
  
"This is the Vice-President," the voice on the other end said. "Just calling to tell you that the President's teddy bear has been found. Apparently one of the dogs took it outside and buried it."  
  
"Oh," Garry said. "Well, I was about to come back anyway. I have a meeting with my fan club."  
  
He hung up and killed a bunch of people on his way home by dropping two F16's on them. He had an intense chatting session with his fan club, which eventually resulted in a massive orgy. When he had exhausted all of his fangirls, leaving a few unconscious, he suddenly remembered he still had to charge the President for his services. He blasted off to Washington DC again, accidentally killing a few of his fangirls who were in the way.

* * *

  
  
As he crashed through yet another window of the Oval Office, he noticed the President wasn't there. Sitting behind the desk was a pale guy, still looking rather young, messy hair and blood-shot eyes.  
  
"Mr Mayonaise," he said. "We need to have a talk."  
  
"Who the bloody fuck are you?" Garry asked.  
  
The boy cleared his throat. "I am the Creator," he said with an overly dramatic tone of voice. He made a wide arm gesture. "All this is mine. Everything in your life is mine. Everything that ever happened to you is my doing. I…"  
  
Garry had already lunged himself towards the Creator – they were rolling on the floor as Garry was strangling him while simultaneously biting his leg.  
  
"You made my life a _Hell_!" Garry shrieked.  
  
"Ghhh… nnng… no… killing your Creator…. bad idea…" the Creator said, choking. "If I die… you die!"  
  
Garry let go. "You might have a point there," he decided.  
  
"I just came here to tell you," the Creator wheezed. "You need to go on with the story."  
  
"The story?" Garry asked, an uneasy feeling growing in his stomach.  
  
"Yes, Noiseless Hill. I'm sure you remember," the Creator said with a smirk. The two words sent shivers down Garry's spine.   
  
"I mean," the Creator continued. "This morphine-induced hallucination has been fun, but it's time to move on, Garry."  
  
"I don't wanna," Garry whined softly.  
  
"Garry, contrary to popular belief, being comatose is _not_ cool."  
  
"You can't force me to wake up!" Garry sulked.  
  
"I guess not," the Creator sighed. "But you should know you stopped breathing 90 seconds ago."

* * *

Garry opened his eyes, this time to the wheezing of his lungs filling up with air again. He was not in a soft warm bed – he was lying on the cold, hard floor of the school hall. He let out a whimper as he became aware of the pain in his foot again, and slowly got up, leaning heavily against the wall.  
  
He stared into the cold darkness to what was unmistakably a door, and prepared to enter the Noiseless Hill Elementary School for the Mentally Retarded.

_Well, that didn't make much sense, did it? The next part will be coming soon, I hope. Anyway, if you liked this, keep reviewing. they might inspire me to make the next chapter less crappy ;)  
_


	5. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

_AN: Oh. Wow._

_Is anyone still here?_

_If you are, I'd like to say, sorry. And I mean that. I've kept you waiting._

_Things have changed. It's been five, nearly six years. I just found this story back on an ancient external hard-drive._

_I was much younger when I started writing this. You should realise that. Everything from this point on will be different._

_If you're still here, thank you. You're the best cult following any writer could ever ask for. If you're new to this story, welcome._

_It's been five years. No, nearly six._

_Let's get on with it, why don't we?_

*

Garry grimaced, still leaning against the wall. He tried to focus, and found that he couldn't. The only thing he remembered was the morphine. Maybe he'd overdone it.

Oh, and the pain, of course. Why was he hurting again?

His daughter. Cherry.

No, he wasn't hurting because she was gone. That much he knew.

He'd lost a toe. He'd been run over by a German Party Bus. He'd passed out, he'd had a dream he didn't really remember, but he did remember he'd stopped breathing.

Why was he here again?

Oh. Right. Cherry. She was here.

Okay, so why was _he_ here again?

*

Garry Mayonaise screamed, turned around and ran to the school's front door as fast as he could, ignoring the pain and grateful for the numbness the morphine had provided. That numbness, however, didn't stop him from feeling sick when he reached the door.

It was locked, from the inside.

"Oh, come on!" Garry yelled. "This isn't fair!"

There was crackle, and the school's intercom system came to life. "Garry Mayonaise, please report to the principal's office," a deep, metallic voice boomed. In the background, there was some sort of lounge music. Actually, it sounded more like the soundtrack to a porn movie he'd once seen.

"But I didn't do anything," he told the intercom, thinking about that movie. It'd had that blonde actress in it, the one with the big knockers. Then again, which porn movie didn't have a blonde actress with big knockers in it? He was starting to confuse himself.

"Principal's office, Garry Mayonaise. You're in deep trouble," the voice said again, the porn music growing louder.

Shit. "But... I didn't do it," Garry sulked. "Whatever Mrs Gillespie says, I didn't set fire to Toby." Toby had been the class hamster, back when Garry'd been twelve. And of course he'd been the one who'd set it on fire, but the principal didn't know that. Mrs Gillespie, the teacher, had always suspected Garry, though. Did that old cow tell on him?

Wait, wait. He wasn't twelve anymore. At least, he didn't think he was. Was he? No, twelve-year olds wouldn't have vivid memories of porn movies. Well, of course, he would, because that one time, when his dad wasn't home, he'd taped one and...

Damn it. He was getting confused again.

"Get a grip, man!" Garry told himself, the sound of his own voice in the deserted school hall frightening him. He slapped himself, because he'd seen people do it in movies when they were confused, and it added a touch of drama. In this case, it only added a touch of pain to his face.

So, what _was_ the situation here? He'd come to Noiseless Hill, trying to get rid of his daughter. They'd been in a car accident, and he'd lost her. So far, so good. But he still hadn't got rid of her. She was here, in the school/casino, and somehow, invisible forces working against him had drawn him here as well.

"_Damn you, invisible forces that work against me!_" Garry screamed, shaking his fist at the ceiling, another thing he'd picked up in movies. He didn't actually expect a reply, but he got one, anyway – the metallic voice over the intercom giggled.

"I see what needs to be done here," Garry grunted, taking out his gun. If he wanted to get rid of Cherry, he'd have to take matters into his own hands. He'd survived turkeys, poodles, dumb cops shooting him in the foot, aliens (he wasn't sure about those, but it sounded cool), teddy-bears and a German boys band.

Whatever was beyond the door leading past the hall, he could handle it, even if it was his daughter. _Especially_ if it was his daughter. The morphine was making him reckless – he didn't care anymore how he got rid of her, as long as he _got rid of her_. Even if he'd had to shoot her in the face.

And then, after he'd done that, he would _not_ go to the principal's office.

Yeah.

Garry felt very defiant, the weight of the gun reassuring him of his superiority. He pushed through the door, except that said door didn't open, causing him to smash his face against it. He cursed, then pulled.

*

For a moment, the bright lights blinded him. The porn soundtrack was still blaring, louder here than it had been in the hall. When his eyes adjusted to the lights, he was appalled to see just how pink everything was – the floor, the walls, the ceiling, everything in different shades, but still very pink.

There were lines of slot machines. This confused him, until he noticed a sign on the wall, reading "Welcome to Noiseless Hill Elementary School for the Mentally Retarded/Casino!". Ah. Of course.

It made perfect sense now.

"Mayonaise, principal's office, I'm not fucking around here," the metallic voice said again, in a sing-song tone this time.

"Yeah, in a second," Garry lied absentmindedly. His eyes were fixed on a huge plasma-screen, attached to the wall at the far end of the room. It showed midgets dancing seductively to the porn music.

One of the midgets wasn't a midget, though. It was Cherry.

"Damn," Garry muttered. "She's got the moves." He'd find out where she was, later. Now, time for some gambling!

At least the slot machines weren't pink. They operated on quarters, and Garry Mayonaise was no fool. It didn't take him long to tie a plastic wire (which he just happened to have in his pocket, okay? Stop asking.) around a quarter, so that he could trick the machine – pulling his quarter back out after it'd been swallowed.

That's how it usually worked on TV, anyway.

It wasn't any different in real life. Garry was pleasantly surprised when the machine's display informed him he had one credit, and he pulled the lever. The reels spinned.

Bar.

Ooh.

Bar.

Come on, come on...

Bar!

Garry let out a loud yelp of glee as he heard the sound of the coins clattering down. Finally, things were going his way. About damn time, too. He really _deserved_ this. Reaching down to collect his money, he wondered if his luck would last long enough for him to shoot his daughter.

Something was wrong. There was no money in the tray.

_Oh_, Garry thought, pulling back his hand. _Shi-_ Not fast enough. With a loud _clang_ sound, the tray snapped shut.

He didn't feel any pain, probably because of the morphine, which allowed him to keep at least some mental distance from what had just happened. Blood spurted out of his left hand, more specifically where the tips of his index and middle finger had been only seconds before.

"That's not good," Garry heard himself mutter. He agreed. First a toe, and now two fingertips. "This is starting to get ridiculous," he went on, still staring at his hand. "I mean, I'm sure I can afford to lose even more body parts, but, you know, where does it end?"

The porn music had stopped. Soft, metallic chuckling sounded through the intercom.

*

Of course, the door to the school/casino's infirmary was locked. Big surprise. Not that he had any idea about what he could possibly do. The slot machine had eaten his fingertips, but he thought maybe he should disinfect it. Or something.

"Mayonaise, if you ever want those fingers back, you _will_ report to the principal's office," the voice blared.

"_But I don't wanna!_" Garry screamed at the intercom. "_You can't make me!_" He was giving serious consideration to throwing a tantrum, something he hadn't done in nearly three weeks now.

"Yes, I can," the voice replied.

"Go on then," Garry said sulkily. "Do your worst!" Somehow, even after losing his fingertips to a slot machine, asking some mysterious observer to 'do his worst' still seemed to Garry like the appropriate thing to say.

Nothing happened.

"Ha!" Garry shouted. _Mayonaise emerges victorious!_ he thought defiantly, still spraying blood out of two fingers.

There was a click, and _Womanizer_, Britney Spears' newest 'hit' started playing at an unbearable volume. Garry instantaneously fell to his knees and started crying, trying to cover his ears and painting his face with his own blood in the process.

"_Stop it!_" he bawled. "_I'll come to the stupid principal's office, but just stop! Have you no heart?_"

The music didn't stop. Whoever this was, they were very clever to see through Garry's cunning lies. He realised he didn't have choice. Miserably, Garry started crawling towards the door ominously marked "Principal's Office/Casino Management".

When he finally reached the door, he pushed it open, leaving a bloody hand-print on its smooth surface. The morphine was wearing off, and a jolt of pain went through his arm. The music stopped, but Garry couldn't stop crying.

_Really,_ he thought. _Britney Spears, of all things!_

"Took you long enough," the metallic voice said.

*

_Who is the Mysterious Stranger in the Principal's Office?_

_Is he/she handsome, and a potential new love interest for our poor, struggling protagonist?_

_Will Garry's fingertips be restored to him, or will he lose even more body parts as the plot thickens?_

_Will the story actually be about Silent Hill in the next chapter, and not about casinos and midgets?_

_What is it with those casinos and midgets, anyway?_

_What about Cherry?_

_And where did Sybill run off to, anyway?_

_For this, and more, tune in next week – or next year, with my track record – for another episode of Noiseless Hill!_

_(If you read this and you've actually been around since the start, drop me a comment to say hi!)_


End file.
